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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500830">Interference</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cac0daemonia/pseuds/cac0daemonia'>cac0daemonia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Clone Wars: Reconstruction Corps AU [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Love, Clones, Fix-It, Friendship, Gen, Lightsaber Battles (Star Wars), Medical Procedures, Reconstruction Corps AU, Rescue, Umbara Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), very minor stuff though</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:28:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cac0daemonia/pseuds/cac0daemonia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>SITUATION: Joopa Squad will perform a covert intelligence gathering mission over Umbara (Expansion Region | The Slice | Ghost Nebula | grid P-10 | Umbaran System | 98.3, -307.9, 4.76). Joopa Squad will not engage enemy forces or communicate with friendly forces. The 212th Attack Battalion (GEN Kenobi, GEN Krell accompanying), 122nd Legion (GEN Tiin), and 501st Legion (GEN Skywalker) will engage Umbaran ground forces, with the aim of securing the capital city. Joopa Squad will monitor friendly comms, with a focus on units operating under General Pong Krell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blackout &amp; CT-1284 | Spark, Boil &amp; Waxer (Star Wars), CT-7567 | Rex &amp; Waxer, Hardcase &amp; CT-5385 | Tup, Hardcase &amp; CT-5597 | Jesse &amp; CT-6116 | Kix, Hardcase &amp; CT-7567 | Rex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Clone Wars: Reconstruction Corps AU [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TexWash's Must Reads and Rereads</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set in the Reconstruction Corps AU, roughly between "Local Wildlife" and "212th Nap Time." Chapter 1 is all from one POV, but in chapter 2 there will be POVs from some more familiar characters. ;) If you want to see what the characters in chapter 1 look like, there's a sketch of them at the end of the chapter.</p>
<p>As always, my undying gratitude goes to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalshard/pseuds/Crystalshard">Crystalshard</a> (you have the patience of a saint) and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tate_The_Great/pseuds/Tate_The_Great">Tate_The_Great</a> for beta reading!</p>
<p>
  <a href="https://cacodaemonia.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spark powers up the datapads and loads the mission briefing on each of them. These new models boot up really fast, which is a pleasant surprise. You could run five klicks in the time it took the old ones to start.</p><p>He grabs three pads from the small stack and hands one each to Duster and Forn where they're perched on some crates. As usual, Forn just leans into Duster's space to look at his, as if it's somehow better than the one Forn received. Shaking his head fondly, Spark brings the third pad to Grip, who's lurking in the doorway to the cockpit, slightly removed from the rest of them. Grip nods, but doesn't quite make eye contact. At least he has his pilot's helmet off, though. He wears it more than is probably healthy, but Spark isn't about to tell him what to do. That's the commander's job.</p><p>The readings on one of the Corvette's monitors fluctuate as Blackout messes with the controls. He'll likely be occupied for a couple minutes, so Spark opens the relevant files on the remaining two datapads and settles in to wait for the commander.</p><p>Blackout has his bucket on, and as he cocks his head a couple times, probably making signal adjustments, the yellow of his Jaig Eye markings shines in the light from the monitors. After a moment, he nods, apparently satisfied, and straightens. He pulls off his bucket and leaves it on one of the seats, then turns to Spark.</p><p>Spark hands him one of the remaining datapads, earning a nod of thanks, then moves to lean against a bulkhead near where Forn and Duster are sitting.</p><p>"Alright," Blackout starts, all business. "We'll be entering realspace over Umbara in an hour, and I know Lieutenant Spark has already reviewed the <em> official </em> briefing with you, but I want to go over why we're really here. Do <em> not </em>share this information with anyone."</p><p>Spark hides his smile at the way Blackout crisply enunciates the last sentence. It's not like Forn and Duster are shinies anymore, but he knows the commander still likes to keep an eye on them.</p><p>"This is strictly an intelligence-gathering mission," Blackout continues as the others scan their respective datapads. "We're ostensibly here to test the prototype 2E transceivers in the Ghost Nebula's peculiar radiation environment. However, we got word that General Krell will be on Umbara for this campaign. As you know, his casualty reports are alarmingly high, so we're going to determine if the rumors from the remaining men under his command have any basis in reality. The only alterations from the original briefing you received are under the Situation overview, but let's run through this once more..."</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td>
<div>
<pre>Operation Order</pre>
</div>
</td>
<td>
<div>
<pre>3633-04-11</pre>
</div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <pre>I. TASK ORGANIZATION:</pre>
  <table>
<tbody>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>Joopa Squad</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(SpecOps)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>IPV-2C Stealth Corvette</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>CC-2649</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(CDR Blackout)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>CT-1284</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(LT Spark)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>CT-1177</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(CPL Duster)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>CT-9535</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(CPL Forn)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td>
<pre>CT-4258</pre>
</td>
<td>
<pre>(SGT Grip - pilot)</pre>
</td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
<td> </td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
</div><p> </p><pre>II. SITUATION: Joopa Squad will perform a covert intelligence gathering mission over Umbara (Expansion Region | The Slice | Ghost Nebula | grid P-10 | Umbaran System | 98.3, -307.9, 4.76). Joopa Squad will not engage enemy forces or communicate with friendly forces. The 212th Attack Battalion (GEN Kenobi, GEN Krell accompanying), 122nd Legion (GEN Tiin), and 501st Legion (GEN Skywalker) will engage Umbaran ground forces, with the aim of securing the capital city. Joopa Squad will monitor friendly comms, with a focus on units operating under General Pong Krell.
</pre><p> </p><pre>    
A. Enemy Forces:</pre><ol>
<li>
<pre>Weather: Stars in the Ghost Nebula emit high levels of ultraviolet radiation. Because of this, the initial calibration of the IPV-2C Stealth Corvette’s systems and the prototype CP-104-2E transceivers may take longer than usual.</pre>
</li>
<li>
<pre>Terrain: Omitted</pre>
</li>
<li>
<pre>Identification of enemy forces: CIS and Umbaran militia forces will be in orbit over Umbara. Ground force consists of the Umbaran militia (see 6. Strength).</pre>
</li>
. . .</ol><hr/><p>Spark and Blackout wrote up the briefing days ago, so Spark already has it memorized, but he diligently reads it again while Blackout reviews everything and adds some commentary.</p><p>When the commander asks if there are any questions, Forn raises his hand like a shiny even though he earned his paint months ago. Blackout fails to hide the amusement on his face, tipping his chin at Forn. "Yes?"</p><p>Forn straightens his spine where he's sitting. "Sir, how long do you expect system calibrations to take?"</p><p>Looking over at Spark, Blackout asks, "Spark, you've run through that a few more times than I have. What's your verdict?"</p><p>Fighting the urge to come to attention, Spark instead just tips his head in thought. He knows Blackout hates it when Spark treats him like 'a fancy senator with an ego the size of a Hutt,' but he just <em> respects </em>Blackout. There's nothing wrong with showing his commanding officer respect, after all! "Well, sir, if the simulation environment I used was accurate, I think we can finish calibrations in eight minutes or less."</p><p>"Good." Blackout nods firmly and looks at the group. "Any more questions? No? Okay, Spark, do a couple practice runs on calibration with Duster and Forn before we drop out of hyperspace."</p><p>"Yes, sir," Spark says, standing up and waving to the younger troopers while Blackout follows Grip into the cockpit to prep for arrival.</p><p>+++</p><p>"He's a karking lunatic," Duster mutters, tipping his head to rest on the seatback. They both have their buckets on, but Spark can tell he's angry by the way his shoulders keep edging higher and higher as the mission progresses. Not that Duster being agitated is anything new, since he's easy to rile up. But even Spark, who likes to think he's pretty even-keeled, wishes they had a training dummy or something to put in the cargo hold so he could knock the stuffing out of it for a while.</p><p>They've been focusing their transceivers on the 501st since General Skywalker was inexplicably ordered back to Coruscant and General Krell put in his place. That was nearly a standard rotation ago, and the tension inside the Corvette has been ratcheting up every hour. Blackout and Spark have been working with General Skywalker and the 501st off and on since the beginning of the war, and even Forn and Duster have met Captain Rex. To hear the way General Krell's been talking to him and his men, never mind his <em> utter </em>disregard for their safety... Well, Blackout's pacing up and down the ship has reached 'caged Nexu' levels of agitation at this point.</p><p>Forn has long since retired to the bunk room for his sleep shift (as far as Spark can tell, Grip has been sleeping in the cockpit for this mission), and Spark <em> finally </em> convinced Blackout to get some rest about three hours ago while he and Duster monitor comms. But, as if summoned by Duster's cursing, Blackout stalks into the control room, bucket under his arm and longer-than-regulation hair sticking up at odd angles. Spark and Duster exchange looks, and Duster tips his bucket as if to say, " <em> I'm </em> not gonna tell him."</p><p>Blackout's voice is even more gravelly than usual when he steps up behind Spark and Duster's seats. "Sitrep."</p><p>Spark stands up and pulls his bucket off, feeling stubble scratch against the seal. Setting his bucket on the seat, he faces his commander. "Sir, General Krell and the 501st are near one end of a narrow gorge that leads to the air base they're targeting. We didn't catch the general's orders on comms, but from the way the units are being organized, it looks like a good portion of them are staying put, while Captain Rex and perhaps a couple platoons are making their way directly up the gorge to the base."</p><p>Blackout's eyes narrow. "Duster, pull up a map."</p><p>A few moments later, Duster has a topographic map of the area on screen, and Spark braces himself.</p><p>"Directly up the gorge, you said?" Blackout's voice is deadly quiet.</p><p>Spark allows himself to grimace. "Yes, sir. The air base is heavily guarded..."</p><p>Blackout straightens and turns away from them, plastoid creaking where he's still got his bucket pinned between arm and hip. "Rex would never do this," he growls. "It's just like their attempt on the main road."</p><p>There's a shuffle and they all turn to see Forn appear from the hallway to the bunk room, pillow creases on his face. He runs a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Sir, I don't understand," he says, voice scratchy from sleep. "First General Krell has them march for hours—"</p><p>"—Fourteen, total," Duster cuts in, his voice full of venom. "And you were already asleep when he had them go on a suicide march straight up the main road to the capital. And then—" He cuts himself off, bucket twitching in Blackout's direction before turning away again to stare intently at the monitors.</p><p>There's an awkward silence. "And then, <em> what </em>?" The commander grits out.</p><p>It looks like Spark has to break the rest of the bad news. He spares a moment to give the side of Duster's bucket a dark look before answering. "Again, it's not anything we got direct recordings of, sir, but there's been some chatter on helmet comms about General Krell threatening an ARC Trooper with his lightsaber."</p><p>Blackout doesn't move, and the only sound in the control room is the low hum of the equipment's cooling system. Spark sees Grip peer around the doorway to the cockpit.</p><p>Finally, the commander opens his mouth, but Duster, the only one wearing a bucket, interrupts.</p><p>"Sir, they've made contact."</p><p>Blackout pushes past Spark to take his seat, passing Spark's bucket to him. "You recording?"</p><p>Duster nods. "Yes, sir."</p><p>"Good." Blackout taps a few buttons to output the transmission to the cabin speakers so they can all listen.</p><p><em> "Captain," </em> General Krell's deep voice booms, <em> "continue your attack!" </em></p><p><em> "Sir, we're overpowered. We need reinforcements!" </em> Spark doesn't know Captain Rex <em> well </em>, but he suspects that's him.</p><p>
  <em> "The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance to the gorge, Captain. They're guarding it so your troops can break through to the air base." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Sir, we can't possibly—" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "You must stand your ground! Do you read me? Captain, are you listening? Do not fall back! That is an order!" </em>
</p><p>There's no response from Captain Rex, just the crackle of nearby explosions overwhelming the audio sensors on his bucket comms and the overlapping chaos of voices shouting orders and screaming in pain.</p><p>Duster pulls his bucket off and drags a gloved hand down his face, stretching the black arcs of lightning tattooed from hairline to jaw.</p><p>Spark feels nauseous just listening to the battle—no, slaughter—going on below. So far they've got plenty of recordings of General Krell's terrible tactics, but no irrefutable proof of malicious intent. And they all know that their evidence has to be airtight to even think about getting him removed from a command position.</p><p>The desperate shouting, and muffled explosions, and shaky cries of dying brothers fill the control room for a while as the four of them keep vigil, unable to help. Forn sinks down against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. He and Duster might be the same age, but Forn is Joopa Squad's baby. Spark sits down next to him, slinging an arm over Forn's shoulders. The kid keeps his head down but leans into Spark.</p><p>Eventually General Krell's voice cuts through the chaos again. <em> "CT-7567, where are you?" </em></p><p>
  <em> "General Krell, we've come up with a plan to infiltrate the air base." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "What is your plan?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "I've dispatched two men on a stealth incursion into the air base. They've been ordered to co-opt starfighters and use them against the tanks." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "You what? You've put this entire assault on your hope that two clones can do what your entire group could not?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Sir, the rocket launchers don't work on these tanks and it'll be easier to slip by undetected while the rest of us keep the tanks occupied." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Captain, you will launch a full-forward strike immediately or you will be relieved of duty." </em>
</p><p>Duster jerks up from his seat, knocking his bucket to the floor. He rips off his gloves, flinging them into nearby crates as he stomps out of the control room down the hall leading to the bunk rooms and cargo hold.</p><p>Blackout lets him go, and doesn't move or say anything for a very, very long time.</p><p>+++</p><p>"—ark, wake up!"</p><p>Spark jolts, sitting up so fast he almost hits his head on the bunk above him. He blinks in the dim light and sees Forn crouched next to him. Duster is stirring on the other side of the tiny room.</p><p>"What?" he asks Forn as he scrubs hand over his face. It took Spark over an hour to talk Duster down enough to get him into a bunk, and he can tell from the dull ache behind his eyes that it hasn't been a standard sleep cycle yet.</p><p>"Sorry, we just—" Forn sounds nervous as he stands up, and Spark can't see his face, so he leans over the edge of the bunk to look up at his squad mate. His lips are pulled tight, a crease between his eyebrows, and that's not a face that Joopa's baby wears often. It must be serious. "A lot's happened in the past five hours. I'll explain while you get kitted up."</p><p>Spark and Duster are already in motion, shoving their boots on and snatching up their right vambraces to activate the magnetic patches that connect their armor to their body gloves.</p><p>"When your shift finished," Forn starts, sounding a little more collected, "the 501st had just taken the air base after a couple of their troopers hijacked some Umbaran starfighters. Approximately three hours ago, General Krell took a comm from General Kenobi. The 212th was under fire from long-range missiles and was forced to retreat from their positions to an outpost southwest of the capital."</p><p>Duster attaches his right cuisse and Spark bends to pick up his own utility belt as Forn continues.</p><p>"They had hoped that taking control of the air base would stop resupply to the capital, but General Kenobi said there's a Sep supply ship in orbit that Republic forces haven't been able to destroy, and it's sending arms shipments down. General Krell said that he'd send the 501st toward the capital, regardless of the missiles. General Kenobi started to protest, but then the transmission got jammed. Commander Cody sent out a 212th platoon to the air base to stop General Krell from directly attacking the capital, but it will take several hours for them to cover the distance on foot."</p><p>Duster's plackart clicks as the magnets in his suit contact it, clipping securely into place as he reaches for his spaulders. He directs a furtive look at Spark, cadet-trained competitiveness compelling him to check their progress.</p><p>Spark is already ahead of him, his chest and back plates connecting with a snap. "Have you located the source of the interference?" he asks. This is an intelligence mission, but if they can locate the jammer, they could pass a message through Command, and ground forces might be able to find and disable it.</p><p>Forn hesitates. "Yes, it uh, appears to be coming from the air base itself, sir."</p><p>Spark and Duster both pause, exchanging frowns.</p><p>"Something remote-triggered?" Duster mutters as he gets back to his armor. "After the Umbarans realized they'd lost the base?"</p><p>Forn shrugs. "We can't tell. But whatever is jamming signals appears to be turning off every twenty minutes, scanning for nearby GAR frequencies, then turning back on again after a half second. Even though we have the timing down, it's not long enough to get a message through to the 501st."</p><p>Spark doesn't like this. It doesn't make <em> sense </em>. Pulling his gloves on, he considers how keyed-up Forn looks. "That's not why you woke us up, though."</p><p>Glancing sideways at him, Forn shifts his weight. "No, sir. We didn't see anything at first, but once they got out of range of the jammer at the air base, we picked up bucket chatter from three 501st troopers."</p><p>Spark nods, grabbing his bucket. Duster stuffs his gloves into his belt and starts snapping on his vambraces, so Spark picks up Duster's bucket for him and ushers them out of the bunk room as Forn continues with the sitrep.</p><p>"They flew three Umbaran starfighters into the orbital engagement—"</p><p>"I didn't think they had any pilots on this deployment?" Duster interrupts, almost fumbling a vambrace as they file down the hallway.</p><p>Spark shakes his head. "They don't. They're just all crazy."</p><p>Duster snorts, slipping his gloves on when they reach the empty control room.</p><p>Spark hears voices from the cockpit. He hands Duster's bucket back to him and gestures at Forn to finish.</p><p>"Between their comms and what we heard after patching into the Sep supply ship's system, we figured out they were heading for the main reactor. The tactical droid controlling the ship dropped a ray shield over the reactor, though, so the missiles the 501st troopers launched didn't do anything. We don't know exactly what happened after that, but one of them—Hardcase—got out of his starfighter and did something the other two weren't happy about. He got them to leave, and once they were clear, the whole supply ship went up."</p><p>Spark closes his eyes. Hardcase was one of Rex's original crew after Geonosis, along with Kix and Jesse. Spark had only met Hardcase a few times, but he wasn't someone you forgot easily.</p><p>Heavy boots on metal snap them all to attention as Blackout strides into the control room from the cockpit. "He might still be alive. Duster, on comms!" he barks, shoving a medpac into Forn's chest and pushing past them, down the hallway they'd just come from. "Spark, Forn, with me."</p><p>Spark sees Duster jam his bucket on, then he and Forn rush after Blackout, past the bunk room to the cargo hold. He doesn't ask what exactly they're doing. Blackout always tells them what they need to know, when they need to know it.</p><p>Stopping at the end of the hallway, Blackout closes the door to the cargo hold with a touch to the console on the wall. "Buckets on," he says, without turning.</p><p>Spark and Forn hurry to comply, and Grip's voice says in their ears, <em> "-tact in ten..." </em></p><p>Spark counts silently while they crowd around the small viewport in the door and look down into the cargo hold.</p><p><em> "Five," </em> Grip starts up again, <em> "Four, doors open..." </em></p><p>The large double doors slide open, and the cargo nets attached to the walls flap violently as the hold depressurizes. Thankfully they aren't storing anything in there for this mission, or it would all be long gone by now.</p><p><em> "Two..." </em>As Grip finishes the countdown, a translucent blue sphere floats into the hold. Spark realizes with a jolt that it's the deflector-shielded cockpit of one of the Umbaran starfighters, and there's a body floating inside it.</p><p><em> "...And got 'im," </em>Grip says, and the doors slide shut as the sphere drops to the floor in the ship's artificial gravity.</p><p>"Kriff..." Forn mutters.</p><p>"Good flying, Grip." Blackout says while he waits five seconds for the hold to re-pressurize. Then he opens the door, steps onto the catwalk, and slides down the ladder to the main floor below.</p><p>Spark follows, sliding down with a squeak of gloves on metal. "Forn, toss me the medpac."</p><p>A moment later all three of them are standing next to the sphere, which has settled right-side up with the weight of the pilot's seat at the bottom. Spark hands the medpac back to Forn, since he's had more medical training than the rest of them.</p><p>Frowning at a bunch of dark spots and streaks on the inside surface of the blue sphere, Spark drops his eyes to the armored body crumpled on its side next to the base of the seat. He recognizes the bold lines on Hardcase's armor, though there are more dark spots peppered across it, just like those on the sphere. He's bleeding.</p><p>"Spark," Blackout snaps, "grab the toolbox."</p><p>Spark sprints across the cargo hold to one of the utility cabinets embedded in the wall. As he's keying in the code, he hears Forn say, "Sir, how are we gonna get him out of there? The shield's controlled from inside the cockpit, right?"</p><p>"Yep," Blackout tells him as Spark pulls down a toolbox and hauls it across the hold. "You and I are gonna rock this up on its side, and Spark is going to crack open the generator inside the base of the seat."</p><p>"Yes, sir!" Forn sets the medpac down as Spark reaches them.</p><p>Blackout is running a gloved hand over the surface of the deflector shield, then pulls back to wave Spark and Forn closer. "We need to maneuver the cockpit so it's propped against that corner of the hold. I have no idea how these Umbaran shields work, but the surface feels slick, so it might be tricky to keep it still while Spark works."</p><p>Within a couple minutes they've shimmied the heavy sphere into the closest corner, and Spark runs back to grab the toolbox while Blackout and Forn determine the best way to get him access to the shield generator under the pilot's seat.</p><p>Spark drops to the ground as they rock the sphere enough to reveal the underside of the seat, and he studies the unfamiliar Umbaran construction. He tries <em> not </em>to look at Hardcase, who slides limply to the lowest point of the cockpit, leaving a dark smear behind.</p><p>"Grip," Blackout says into their internal comms, "We clear? No one spotted us?"</p><p>
  <em> "Not a soul, sir." </em>
</p><p>"Alright, get us back to our previous position, then help us in the hold." Blackout shifts a foot, trying to get better leverage to hold the essentially frictionless sphere.</p><p>
  <em> "Yes, sir." </em>
</p><p>Spark frowns, prying at a seam in the metal with a small crowbar when he can't find any screws.</p><p>"At least," Forn huffs, pressing his chest against the sphere to keep it steady, "this isn't the kind of deflector shield that would be shocking us to death right now."</p><p>"Small miracles," Spark mutters, but finally hears a pop as a panel bends. He jams the crowbar farther into the gap, hoping he doesn't electrocute himself, and wrenches the panel loose with a fierce yank.</p><p>The sphere wobbles—Spark can tell that it's heavy, but it's the lack of traction on the shield, rather than the weight inside, that's making Blackout and Forn struggle. Spark fishes a larger crowbar out of the toolbox, props one end into a groove between floor panels, and wedges the other into a corner of the compartment he just opened under the pilot's seat.</p><p>"That should help, sir," he tells Blackout, then switches the display on his HUD to detect electromagnetic fields and lies down on his back to look up at the Umbaran wiring. Spark is good at fixing things, but this Umbaran generator layout is unlike any he's ever seen. He doesn't have time to gawk at it, though, he just needs it <em> off </em>.</p><p>After a couple minutes of careful poking and prodding, Spark's pretty sure that he can dislodge a section of wires that connect the control panel to what is likely the shield's energy source deeper inside the base of the pilot's seat. If he can cut power to the control panel, the shield should turn off. Some other components are partially blocking the wires, but those shouldn't take long to remove.</p><p>Footsteps ring on the catwalk over the hold, and Spark calls to Grip as the pilot slides down the ladder, "Grip, can you find a large pair of insulated pliers in the toolbox? I need to rip something out of here but I don't know how strong the power source is. I've almost got these wires uncovered..."</p><p>Blackout has been silent the whole time, but one part of Spark's mind is aware of Forn shifting every so often to get a better look at Hardcase as he continues bleeding out inside the cockpit.</p><p>Spark's working as fast as he can, but Forn and Blackout know that.</p><p>He sees Grip kneel down by the toolbox and pull his helmet off. He rummages around, the clatter of metal echoing through the cargo hold. Some of his long curls have come loose from the strange braid he wears his hair in. Spark remembers the nice old Weequay lady on Socorro who taught him how to weave his hair together like that, and how Grip had a small, soft smile on his face the whole time.</p><p>No one rushes him, either. Grip might be a little odd, but they all trust each other.</p><p>He makes a small, pleased sound, then leans forward to hand Spark the pliers.</p><p>"Thanks." Spark shifts to get better leverage, sinks the teeth of the pliers into the wire cluster he needs to remove, and <em> twists </em>.</p><p>Sparks rain down on him, but his bucket and armor protect him. There's a <em> shoom </em>sound, and the deflector shield blinks out of existence, making Blackout and Forn stumble as they're suddenly pressed against empty space. Spark hears the clatter of plastoid on metal as Hardcase and his bucket drop the final distance to the floor, and it almost but not quite masks the unsettling patter of blood drops hitting the deck in a circle around Hardcase. With a creak, the pilot's seat starts to rock forward, onto Spark.</p><p>Grip dives forward before Blackout and Forn can react, slowing the seat's momentum enough that Spark can get his hands up and prevent it from pinning his bucket to the floor. Shuffling around, the other three get a hold of the seat to steady it, and with a grunt, Spark slides out from underneath.</p><p>With the shield gone, the smell of blood drifts in through his bucket's air intakes.</p><p>By the time he's scrambled to his feet, Forn and Blackout are already crouched over Hardcase where he's wedged into the corner of the hold, behind the disabled pilot's seat.</p><p>"Spark, Grip," Blackout says, waving a hand in their direction, "get this out of the way."</p><p>With a screech of metal, they drag the seat a couple meters back, then push the toolbox and scattered tools off to the side as well. Grip stays back a few paces, putting his giant helmet back on, but Spark steps forward in case his help is needed.</p><p>Forn and Blackout have already taken off Hardcase's singed left spaulder and the armor on that arm, and Blackout is cutting the undersuit away from his shoulder with medical scissors while Forn pokes at the medpac's scanner. Hardcase has a bloody nose and split lip, but the blaster wound in his shoulder seems to be where most of the blood has come from. Spark's not a medic, but he has seen a lot of injuries. And while the floor of the cargo hold is definitely a mess right now, it's a small relief to realize that Hardcase doesn't seem to have lost a life-threatening amount of blood.</p><p>Once Blackout fully removes the sleeve and shoulder of Hardcase's blacks, Forn sets the scanner aside and digs a hypo out of the medpac. "Scanner says he has a nasty concussion, but these anti-inflammatories are supposed to handle even brain swelling," he says, pressing the hypo to Hardcase's neck. "Other than that, he has a couple fractured ribs, some bruising and cuts, and obviously the blaster wound."</p><p>Spark relaxes marginally. The Corvette doesn't have much of a medbay, so they can't treat major injuries.</p><p>"I'll disinfect it and put some coagulant on," Forn continues, rummaging through the medpac, "then bacta gel and a couple patches will have to do for now."</p><p>Blackout, apparently deciding that Forn has things in hand, stands, wiping his gloves with the dry parts of Hardcase's sleeve.</p><p>"Sir," Spark says, "How did you even find him?"</p><p>Blackout's still holding the ruined sleeve when his bucket turns back to Forn and Hardcase. "He obviously got back in the cockpit before the explosion, but the rest of the starfighter must have gotten torn apart around him. Duster was tracking his friends back to the surface, but then we noticed Hardcase's locator was still active." He shrugs. "Figured if his gear was still functioning, he might have survived. The explosion launched him pretty far away from the battle, so Grip swung us around to intercept his trajectory. We didn't even have to uncloak to scoop him up."</p><p>Spark huffs, muttering, "Loca stoopa." Duster's been on a Huttese kick lately, so Spark has absorbed some of it against his will. Truthfully, though, Hardcase isn't a fool, and Spark knows that, but he feels like he needs to be indignant on behalf of Hardcase's 501st brothers, for the crazy move he pulled.</p><p>Forn seems done with the blaster wound and hypo, and starts applying a bacta patch over Hardcase's nose, which doesn't look broken, but is already getting red and swollen. He's gonna have some good shiners.</p><p>"Alright," Blackout says, addressing all three of them, "Grip, back to the cockpit. Spark, clean up the tools and we'll just space the pilot's seat, unless"—he looks at Spark, apparently noticing something about his posture—"Okay, yeah, you want to dissect it later. Fine, but see if you can strap it down under the cargo nets. We'll worry about the blood later. Forn, I'll help you carry Hardcase to the bunk room and you can take care of his ribs in there; that cot in medbay might as well be made of Akul teeth..."</p><p>+++</p><p>Spark climbs the ladder out of the tidied up cargo hold, then walks down the hallway to poke his head into the bunk room. "How's he doing?"</p><p>Looking up from where he's sitting on the bunk, next to Hardcase's feet, Forn shrugs. "Still mostly unconscious, but it hasn't even been twenty minutes since we grabbed him. Anyway, the scanner says there's no brain swelling, and aside from some blood loss he seems okay."</p><p>Spark doesn't have his bucket on, so he smiles and raps his knuckles on the doorframe. "Good job, kid."</p><p>Forn never seems to mind the nickname, so he just smiles back, sweet as a tooka kitten, and Spark continues on to the control room.</p><p>It's quiet again, and once he sees that Blackout and Duster both have their buckets on and are focused on the control panels, Spark pulls his back on and switches to the appropriate frequency.</p><p><em> "—outs report," </em> General Krell's voice growls in his ear, <em> "that Umbaran forces have ambushed a platoon of 501st troopers, seizing weapons and uniforms. They will likely be disguised as clones. I'm transmitting their last known coordinates now." </em></p><p><em> "Yes, sir," </em>comes a brother's voice. Spark checks his HUD and sees that the signal is from the 212th. So the 501st must have disabled the jammer at the air base...</p><p><em> "I've already informed General Kenobi, so there's no need to bother him. Get moving." </em> General Krell's signal cuts out.</p><p>There's a crackle as the 212th trooper switches to a unit-wide frequency and the Corvette's transceivers catch up, then, <em> "Alright, boys, we're heading for these coord-" </em></p><p>The signal goes dead.</p><p>"What—" Duster sputters, adjusting the transceivers with no luck. "It's karking jammed again!"</p><p>While Duster continues taking his frustration out on the equipment. Blackout looks over his shoulder at Spark. "The jammer has still been doing those personnel scans at regular intervals, and it just picked up the platoon that Commander Cody sent to the air base. But the jammer didn't turn back on again like normal, and General Krell just contacted the lieutenant leading the platoon to give him coordinates." Blackout turns to Duster. "Pull those up."</p><p>"Yes, sir," Duster mutters, voice clipped.</p><p>"The Umbarans," Spark says, "they took some of the 501st's armor?" It makes him a little queasy thinking about it. It's one thing for a brother to die at the hands of the enemy, but for the enemy to take his armor? His <em> paint </em>? Maybe that isn't a big deal for some people, but the very thought is abhorrent to any clone.</p><p>Duster continues silently fuming while Blackout sighs. "Looks like. But that part you heard—General Krell saying he already told General Kenobi—we didn't pick up a single transmission from the air base to the 212th's location."</p><p>Spark cocks his bucket to one side, opens his mouth to speak, but the comms crackle again, and an image pops up on the main screens and the lower left of his HUD. It's a trooper, down on one knee and holding his blaster.</p><p>"Jammer's off again!" Duster throws his hands up in the air and Blackout makes a slicing motion with one arm to shut him up.</p><p>
  <em> "—al, the Umbarans have stepped up their offensive. We're holding them off, but their squadrons have ambushed one of our platoons, seizing weapons and uniforms. We believe they may be planning to launch a massive attack." </em>
</p><p>Just as suddenly as the transmission came through, it cuts off again. Spark notices a blinking icon on his HUD indicating coordinates attached to the message.</p><p>Duster looks like he's about to vibrate out of his armor, but Blackout preempts him. "Duster, if you yell in my ear one more time, I'm spacing you."</p><p>Spark leans over Blackout's shoulder to see the full display, not just what his HUD tells him. The readouts don't seem right. There's a red icon showing that the jammer is back on now, but oddly, the scout report wasn't a live signal. It had to have been pre-recorded. As he continues to scan the screen, the location data for the transmission catches Spark's eye. He knows that Blackout and Duster can read it as well as he can, but he points to the numbers anyway, something cold pooling in his stomach.</p><p>"Sir, this transmission came <em> from </em>the air base, pinged a satellite, then went straight back to the base..."</p><p>Blackout taps a couple buttons and swipes his fingers across one monitor to pull up two sets of numbers: the coordinates General Krell sent the 212th platoon, and those attached to the suspicious scout message.</p><p>They're the same.</p><p>+++</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>[Image ID: A colored, digital sketch of Joopa Squad and Grip. The five them, sans helmets, are facing three screens on a desk in the bottom left corner. They're all wearing the armor that Blackout and Spark wore in The Clone Wars episode, "Cat and Mouse," but updated for Phase II, and with some extra paint. Spark is sitting at the desk in the center, talking. He has a white tattoo to match the paint on his helmet in canon. It consists of eight lines of varying length radiating from his left eye. He has the same design painted larger in red on his chest plate, plus a few other red accents. There's a small fleck of blue in his left eye, and he has a regulation haircut. On the far left side of the canvas, facing the viewer but looking down at the screens, is Grip. He is wearing his pilot armor and holding his helmet tucked under his right arm. As with the others, his helmet is updated to resemble both a Phase I spec ops pilot helmet and a Phase II pilot standard helmet. His hair is pulled back into a low braid, with lots of frizzy curls sticking out. He also has red accents on his armor, particularly on the crest of his helmet, where he has painted a pattern of diagonal, alternating rectangles to depict a stylized braid. Next to Grip, leaning forward with one hand on the desk, is Duster. He has jagged white lines, like somewhat naturalistic lightning bolts, painted across his armor, and a similar tattoo in black on his face. His hair is styled in an undercut. Forn is standing slightly behind Duster, leaning forward with one elbow on the back of Spark's chair. Most of his armor is obscured by the others, but he has some white stripes painted over the dark grey. His hair is buzzed short and he has a scar cutting vertically through his right eyebrow. Standing on the far right, hands on his hips, is Blackout. He has several red accent on his armor, plus a black and yellow stripe down the middle of his upper chest plate, similar to the one on his helmet in canon. He has scruffy stubble on his face, and his hair is longer and more shaggy than a regulation haircut. The background is a simple grey gradient. End ID.]</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two transmissions, one real and one fake, sent to Waxer and to the 501st at the air base, and they both warned of Umbarans wearing clone armor…</p>
<p>Boil’s fingers start to tingle, and he feels like a mortar explosion just punched all the air out of his lungs. Frozen, he watches Cody and General Kenobi.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Buckle up! Time for some action. :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After Boil gets the other members of Tal Squad settled in with rations and orders to rest for at least the next three hours, he stalks across the dark camp to the makeshift command center. The 212th had been forced to retreat to this communications outpost hours ago, when the Sep's long-range missiles had started raining down in a ring around the city. The ships they'd been promised still haven't appeared in orbit, so they're stuck here with no air support and a lot of deadly ground to cover between them and their target.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's squad has just finished their shift with a final recon patrol to determine if any ground forces are approaching from the city. They're in the clear for the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His squad members aren't officially ARF-trained like he is, but Boil, Waxer, and Trapper have been adding bits of ARF training procedures into the regular rotation of exercises for the 212th. Waxer's platoon, Nabat, does have a few fully-trained ARF troopers, but thanks to all the extra work they've done with the infantry in general, it's of the best non-specialized platoons in the GAR when it comes to stealth and recon. Waxer's in good hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That knowledge does absolutely nothing to ease Boil's current worries. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he's worrying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last time he checked in, an hour ago, he'd been informed that they'd just lost contact with Nabat Platoon, but not to worry, because it was almost certainly the Umbarans jamming the signal. Boil gives himself a mental kick and focuses on the report he needs to give Cody. When he's done with that he can casually ask about Waxer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pausing at the main entrance to the outpost, Boil hits the control panel a little harder than strictly necessary, and the doors swish open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room is bathed in blue-green light from all the comm terminals, with clones working at several stations. General Kenobi and Cody are standing in front of the central holoprojector. The clone on the other end isn't familiar to Boil, but he's got Jaig Eyes on the front of his bucket like Captain Rex and, judging by the extra comm attachments on the sides of it, he's spec ops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Odd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil approaches, intending to stop a few respectful paces away. He pauses when he hears the strain in Jaig Eyes's voice, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"—anger. All evidence indicates that General Krell is jamming signals on and around the air base, and kept pausing the jammer to do brief scans of the surrounding area. On his most recent scan six minutes ago, he located and contacted a 212th platoon approaching the air base and gave them the coordinates I'm transmitting now." </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looks down briefly, then a glowing dot appears on the topo map displayed nearby. It's a few klicks east of the air base.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi looks like he's about to ask a question, but Jaig Eyes barrels on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"He told the platoon's CO there were enemy forces in that area that had taken trooper armor and weapons, and were posing as clones."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil scowls, and sees every bucket in the room turn at the comment. He doesn't have time to dwell on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrongness </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it, though, as Jaig Eyes continues.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Then General Krell ordered the 212th unit to those coordinates, and said he had already relayed the information to you, General Kenobi."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The general crosses his arms, and Boil can see from his profile that he's frowning. "We never received this message."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of the other clones in the room are even </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretending </span>
  </em>
  <span>to pay attention to their own stations at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaig Eyes nods. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"We know, sir. He never sent one. Approximately ninety seconds later, the jammer stopped again, and a prefabricated transmission was sent from the air base to a comm satellite, then back to the air base. It was a holoprojection of a trooper warning General Krell about the enemy having stolen armor and weapons. And the same coordinates he gave to your man were attached to the transmission."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two transmissions, one real and one fake, sent to Waxer and to the 501st at the air base, and they both warned of Umbarans wearing clone armor...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's fingers start to tingle, and he feels like a mortar explosion just punched all the air out of his lungs. Frozen, he watches Cody and General Kenobi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cody's hands are gripping the edge of the holotable. Boil can't see his face, but he knows Cody is looking at the general.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi drops his arms and takes a half step back. "He can't be—why would he..?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sir," Cody says, straightening and clenching his fists, "we can work out the 'why' later. Right now we need to intercept Nabat and whoever General Krell sent out." His voice has a viciously sharp edge to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seeming to shake himself, the general nods at Cody. "You're right, of course. We don't have any gunships available..." He looks at Jaig Eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaig Eyes shakes his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"The forest is too dense, sir. We can't land our ship anywhere near there."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The AT-RTs," Boil blurts out, and everyone turns to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi nods again. "The terrain is rough, but that's our best hope of reaching Waxer in time. I'll take one to these coordi—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sir," Cody interrupts. "All due respect, but you need to get to the air base. There's a—The men on base may be in danger. One of us can handle some troopers, but we can't handle General Krell."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi looks like he's in physical pain, but Boil can't really pay attention to that right now. "I'll go," he hears himself saying. "Commander, the coordinates—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cody nods. "Go. I'll send them to you. Make sure to grab a walker with a full tank."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's already bolting for the door, but he hears General Kenobi behind him, asking Cody to contact the Council, then Cody yells, "Be careful!" and the general's rapid footsteps follow Boil out into the dusty gloom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's nearly crashed the AT-RT twice, and almost got tripped by one of those tentacle mouths in the ground, but he's finally getting close to the coordinates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's target is a few klicks east of the air base, so he and General Kenobi had separated almost immediately. It's taken him nearly ninety minutes to cover the distance, and Boil would know, since he's been checking the chronometer on his HUD constantly. If this karking skughole of a planet had the decency to just be </span>
  <em>
    <span>flat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he'd have reached the coordinates long ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's tried to hail Waxer on comms a few times, but apparently the jammer is still active because there's been nothing but static.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The closer Boil gets, the more the knot in his stomach twists. Riding a nun walker over rough terrain is always a workout, but despite that, his hands feel cold and clammy. His jaw aches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he's close now. And he doesn't hear any blaster fire. So, that's probably a good thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unless he's far too late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gritting his teeth, he guns the walker to jump it over a fallen tree-thing. The ground on the opposite side is loose and gravelly, and the walker starts to skid out of control when it lands. He corrects the steering and adjusts his speed, and the walker gets its feet back under it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pale shape in the darkness ahead catches his eye. It's definitely a clone, though he can't tell what color their paint is. Boil just hopes they don't shoot him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He speeds up, being deliberately loud with the walker—not that they're ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>—in the hopes that the clones up ahead won't think he's an enemy sneaking up on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he can see four figures, and make out paint on their armor. It's too light to be 501st blue, so they're Waxer's boys. As they turn sharply to face him he gets a grip on the steering with one hand and yanks his bucket off with the other, waving it in the air. "Hold your fire! I'm a clone!" he bellows, though his voice is uneven thanks to bouncing up and down on the walker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A couple of them have their blasters trained on the ground in front of Boil, but the other two are turned away. Comms are no use, so hopefully they're passing the news of Boil's appearance up the line to Waxer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's not about to stop here, though. The coordinates are about a hundred meters ahead, and this is cutting it </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too close. He keeps yelling as he dodges glowing tree-things and a couple clones out on the left flank of the platoon. Waxer's always at the front. Almost there...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A blue blaster bolt streaks out of the gloom ahead, and Boil curses. Looks like the 501st has found them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He debates for a split second if he should cut to the center of Nabat Platoon and try to find Waxer at the front, to relay the information to him. Boil's a sergeant and Waxer's a lieutenant, so technically, that's what he should do. But a few more shots scream through the trees, aimed at the bulk of the platoon just ahead and to his right, and there's no </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Boil can think about as he covers the last dozen meters, still shouting and waving his bucket around like a lunatic so he doesn't get shot, is how devastated Waxer would be if he killed a brother. Or worse, if one of the 501st—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he passes the leading edge of Nabat Platoon, he barely hears someone shout, "Boil?" over the rattle of the AT-RT, his own hoarse yelling, and the increasing blaster fire. There's a small clearing between Boil and the 501st. He can just see a few of them in the trees beyond it as he leaps a ditch. But he's only got one hand on the controls, and he botches the landing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walker's feet catch on something and it pitches forward. Before Boil can grab on to anything, he goes hurtling over the front end. He loses hold of his bucket and a blaster bolt whizzes past him. As the ground rapidly approaches, muscle memory takes over and he tucks into a ball.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lands on his left shoulder, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he hears a pop. Then he's tumbling through the dirt and leaf litter, cursing himself for not putting his bucket back on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can't hear anything over the crunching and scuffing around him, but when he finally stops rolling he immediately staggers to his feet, raising his right arm—the left one doesn't seem to be responding, and he's distantly aware of searing pain in that shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm a clone," is what he tries to yell. But he inhaled so much dust rolling across the ground that he gets out the first word, and the rest are eaten up by a coughing fit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blaster fire has stopped, at least, and he hears someone behind him yell, "Hold your fire!" And then boots thumping over the dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's still coughing and expecting to get shot when he turns and sees Waxer sprinting forward with his shoulders hunched and head down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Take your bucket off!" Boil shouts raggedly, finally able to breath without coughing. He keeps waving his right arm, stumbling toward Waxer and hoping he'll be enough deterrent to keep the 501st from shooting his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What?" Waxer yells, as they crash into each other and Waxer starts trying to pull him back toward cover.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil plants his feet and grabs Waxer's arm with his good hand, repeating, "Your bucket—take it off!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer tenses like he's about to try and knock Boil off balance and drag him away, but then his visor fixes on Boil's face for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer sighs, then pulls his bucket off with one hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil straightens, pulling Waxer up with him. Waxer peers over Boil's shoulder, in the direction of the 501st, muttering, "If I get shot—"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A voice calls out from the trees. "Torrent, cease fire!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer's eyes go wide and Boil hears his bucket thump as it hits the dirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still holding Waxer's arm, Boil twists just enough to see Captain Rex and the rest of Torrent Company slowly emerging from cover. Looking past Waxer, he watches Nabat Platoon do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They're all moving like they're concussed. The forest is very quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer's eyebrows scrunch together and he looks at Boil like he wants to ask a question and can't find any words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil can already feel the adrenaline crash coming on. He knows he's bruised and probably bleeding from a dozen cuts that he can't quite feel yet, and judging by the sound his shoulder made earlier, it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>dislocated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets out a harsh breath and coughs again. "You're okay," he whispers, mostly to convince himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems like Waxer heard him, though. Boil watches him collect himself and glance around, assessing, making sure there's no longer any danger to his men, because Waxer is a good commanding officer. Then his brother steps forward and wraps his arms around Boil with a clatter of plastoid. The movement jolts his shoulder, and he can feel the pain becoming more real as his brain starts to focus on something besides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurry, hurry, protect</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All the same, when Waxer's temple knocks against his own, the hot knot of tension that's been lodged under Boil's ribs starts to ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer shivers a little, like he's thinking about what could have happened—what </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened, so Boil leans into the hug a little more than he normally would. He doesn't hug </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he just... doesn't try to wriggle away like he usually does when Waxer latches onto him like a rathtar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil lets out another breath, this one slower, less ragged. He decides he can let himself rest here for just a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes to get the whole story from Boil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer is easygoing. Everyone knows that. And he's gotten good under pressure, or he wouldn't be SIC of Ghost Company. So he realizes it's probably a shock to his men when he pulls back from hugging Boil and starts yelling at him about running straight into a fire fight without even wearing his bucket. Captain Rex is approaching them, and a part of Waxer's brain notes that there's something odd about the way he's holding himself, but Waxer isn't finished yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's worked himself up to, "Is your head full of rocks?" when Nabat's medic, Muja, slides between them, preventing Boil from sniping back at Waxer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sirs," Muja says firmly, ushering Boil over to the crashed AT-RT.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil goes without protest, probably because he's not used to Waxer yelling, either, but Waxer can tell by the twist of his mouth that he wants to argue </span>
  <em>
    <span>so badly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Being contrary is Boil's default setting, but when Muja pushes him down onto one of the AT-RT's twisted legs, he winces and seems to settle on a petulant glare that clearly says, 'you would have done the same thing.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, fine, he's probably right. Waxer doesn't know what's going on, but he knows Boil wouldn't do something this reckless without good cause. It's just that he adores Boil, and yes, they're all in dangerous situations every day, but seeing him risk his life like that to protect the rest of them... It rattled Waxer a little more than he wants to admit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a shuffle behind him and he hears a brother's voice ordering, "Move, move."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning, he sees Rex's CMO, Kix, shouldering a couple Torrent boys aside to get to Boil, Muja, Rex, and Waxer in the middle of the crowd. The medic shoves his blaster at a brother, who looks startled, but manages not to fumble the rifle into the dirt. Yanking his bucket off, Kix looks around with a critical eye and swings his backpack off with his free arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer doesn't know Kix that well, but he thinks the medic looks less put together than usual. Still focused and sharp, but the way the normally calm medic's eyes dart around, looking for injuries, seems a little frantic. Glancing down, he notices large darker patches on Kix's armor. It's hard to tell in the gloom, but they look pink. Every brother has had to get blood—and sometimes puke and other bodily fluids—off their armor at some point, but Waxer has only ever seen stains like this when medics are too harried to properly clean their armor and have to settle on a quick wipe down between patients.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What has Torrent been through over the past day and a half?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Anyone else hurt?" Kix calls, and his voice is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoarse</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Pausing, he sweeps his gaze across the crowd again, but when he only gets some head shakes and a few, 'No, sir's in return, he steps past Waxer to talk to Muja.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not liking the weird feeling all this is giving him, Waxer turns to Rex, about to ask him if he knows what's going on. The captain's fingers shake ever so slightly as he reaches up to grab his own bucket, and Waxer's question lodges in his throat when he sees Rex's face. There's sweat beaded in the captain's hair and on his forehead, despite the chilly air and their thermoregulating undersuits. His eyes are wide, pupils too large even for Umbara's neverending twilight. He's looking at the spot where Muja and Kix are tending to Boil, but Waxer gets the distinct impression that he's not actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>seeing </span>
  </em>
  <span>them right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking, Waxer looks around again, taking in the nervous glances Rex's men are exchanging. Waxer's own boys look shaken up as well—they came </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>close to killing their own brothers, after all—but there's a brittle sort of desperation in the expressions of the 501st troopers that sets Waxer on edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing once more at Rex, who outranks him and is technically in charge right now, Waxer decides to give the captain a moment to pull himself together and takes a step forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Boil, sitrep."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil snaps his head up from answering one of Muja's quiet questions, his lips thinning briefly before he clears his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A spec ops trooper contacted 212th command approximately, uh"—he glances around, looking like he misplaced something—"I dunno where my bucket is, but last time I checked it had been about ninety minutes. Anyway, I missed the first part of the comm, but he's clearly been monitoring transmissions during this campaign. He told General Kenobi and Commander Cody that General Krell was responsible for jamming signals around the air base."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix pauses over his medpac to give Boil a sharp look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil coughs a couple times, wiping blood from a scrape above his eyebrow, and continues. "But he said that the jammer kept turning off to run some kind of area scan, and once it located Nabat Platoon, General Krell contacted you." He nods at Waxer while Muja gestures for Boil to stand up and take a couple steps away from the walker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer was prepared for their comms to stop working once they got near the air base. But if General Krell was the one controlling the jammer, that certainly explains why they abruptly started working right before the general's message came through, then immediately fizzled out again. Waxer had noted it at the time, but there was nothing he could have done with the limited information, and he had more pressing matters to deal with, anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muja and Kix lay Boil down on his back and exchange a couple quick words about reducing a dislocated shoulder before arranging themselves around him. Ignoring the distractions, Boil manages to narrate the whole time. "He transmitted the coordinates for this location and warned of enemies wearing stolen clone armor and carrying our weapons."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, Waxer sees Rex jerk, and a nervous ripple goes through Torrent Company.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He also said," Boil continues with a grimace, as Kix braces him and Muja starts slowly rotating his left arm, "that he had already contacted General Kenobi with this information, but—ow—212th command never got any message. The spec ops trooper said that, uh, about ninety seconds after General Krell contacted Nabat Platoon, the jammer turned off again and a transmission went from the air base to a satellite, and back."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's voice has been getting tighter the farther Muja moves his arm. It makes Waxer wince internally; he hates seeing Boil in pain, and knows from experience that reducing dislocated shoulders is excruciating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It was a holo of a clone, telling General Krell about the enemy taking our weapons and armor, with these same coordinates attached to the message. But the holo was"—Boil sucks in a strained breath—"The spec ops trooper said the whole message was prefabricated."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Muja adds just a little more pressure, Boil clamps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, then his shoulder jerks and a tiny grunt of pain escapes his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sucking in a couple deep breaths, Boil blinks a few times, seemingly unaware, for a moment, of how eerily silent the crowd around him has gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix slowly shifts back, like he's in a daze, and Muja taps Boil to get his attention before helping him to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Moving his left arm gingerly, Boil straightens and turns to Rex. "And I'm betting that General Krell warned you about enemies disguised as clones."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting out a ragged breath, Rex nods slowly, a deep crease between his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil scowls, but he doesn't look surprised. "So I came to intercept you, and General Kenobi headed for the air base on another AT-RT."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer feels cold all over. Why would General Krell betray his own men like this? It doesn't make any </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>. General Kenobi could be at the air base with him right now, and if Krell is willing to kill his own men, how will he react to General Kenobi confronting him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling another prickly surge of adrenaline, Waxer turns to Rex, whose expression has hardened. A muscle in the captain's jaw jumps, and he looks back at Waxer, saying, "We need to get to the air base, now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a flurry of action as the units regroup, with Waxer and Rex shouting orders. Muja allows that Boil's injuries are minor enough that treatment can wait, and he and Kix get Boil's left arm into a sling. One of Waxer's ARFs, Patches, finds Boil's bucket and brings it to him. Someone from Torrent looks over the AT-RT and declares it a lost cause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone is just about ready when Waxer glances at the edge of the clearing and sees a 501st trooper standing there, clutching his bucket in both hands and staring blankly at the ground. He has a leth-shaped tattoo on his face and Rex breaks off from shouting orders to approach him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer is helping one of his sergeants with a malfunctioning HUD, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Rex put a hand on the trooper's shoulder. They seem to exchange a few quiet words, then Rex guides him back toward the others.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They're about ready to go when Boil appears next to Waxer. Waxer knocks their vambraces together and asks, low, "You okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil tips his bucket to one side. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go help General Kenobi."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They move out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having no access to comms, on a dark planet, while your brothers are on edge about the enemy being disguised as clones and might shoot you is, Waxer has discovered, not his favorite scenario. Thankfully, Rex had said he'd come up with arm signals for patrols and guards around the air base to use. Standard hand signals are no good when it's this dark and you can't get close enough to make them out, so they're an adapted version of the semaphore used by GAR ground crews for directing ships as they take off and land.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The outermost ring of patrols is on that ridge line just ahead," Rex huffs as they jog over the rough terrain, ducking under the Umbaran equivalent of a tree branch. The captain seems... Not better, but a little steadier than he was back in the clearing. Having the immediate, concrete goal of getting to the air base as quickly as possible to help General Kenobi is no doubt helping. Waxer knows a lot of brothers who, even at the best of times, flounder without orders to follow, so when everything is going wrong, a plan of action is something to cling to, at least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken Torrent about ninety minutes to get from the air base to the coordinates where Boil had intercepted all of them, but they'd been moving cautiously and looking out for Umbarans. Now, both Torrent and Nabat are more concerned with speed, so they've covered the same distance in an hour, only slowing once to divert around a cluster of those tentacle-mouth things. The blue-green glow of the base's lights on the clouds overhead has been obvious for a while, but they haven't seen the base itself yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil is keeping up, but judging by the way his stride is a little shorter than usual, and how his left arm is tucked in close to his body, he's in a decent amount of pain. He won't complain about it, and Waxer's not going to bring it up. It's not like they can afford to do anything to help him right now, anyway. And if Waxer's math is correct, Boil should be off-duty right now, which means he's been going non-stop for at least the past thirteen hours, with only a two hour nap before that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, while Waxer is worried about General Kenobi, and none of them know what to expect when they reach the air base, he's hoping that they can at least get Boil off his feet soon and let the medics take a proper look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rex brings up a hand and slows, so Waxer does the same, and he can hear the men behind them following suit, passing the signal back as they've been instructed. Two 501st troopers are just visible at the top of the ridge, silhouetted against the brighter clouds. One looks ready to sprint back to the base if necessary, and the other is watching Rex as the captain waves his arms in a simple series of gestures. When the guard repeats them, Waxer swears he hears a collective sigh of relief from Rex and the other troopers nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't know much about what the 501st has been through with General Krell, and Rex hasn't said much on the trek to the air base, but Waxer is aware of the general's casualty numbers. Krell had been slated to work with General Kenobi and the 212th before General Skywalker got called away, so Cody had taken the 212th officers aside before the campaign and told them to keep a close eye on any units that got put under Krell's command. He stressed that they were to report to him immediately if they noticed </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>unusual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Given all that, and the way every man in Torrent is about one snapped twig away from diving for cover and opening fire, it's impressive that Rex had the presence of mind to set up the semaphore system. Waxer's never been more grateful for the captain's resourcefulness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Come on," Rex says, waving everyone forward out of the trees to scramble up the bare slope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Movement catches his eye, and Waxer sees one of the guards waiting for them while the other disappears over the ridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's going ahead to signal the inner patrol," Rex huffs as they hurry up the incline, probably guessing that Waxer was assessing the guards' movements. "Then they'll alert the guards at the perimeter. Safer than all of us barging in."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good system," Waxer says, nodding, and makes a mental note to mention this and the semaphore to Cody, in case the 212th ever needs it. Then again, it's entirely possible Cody and Rex came up with all of it months ago, holed up in Cody's quarters to pore over strategy for hours. Those two are some of the best in the GAR for a reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's just to Waxer's left and a half step behind when he slips on a patch of loose dirt or rotting vegetation—it's hard to tell in the gloom. Reflexively, Waxer turns and reaches back to grab him before he falls, and, despite Boil's attempts to shrug him off, keeps his grip on Boil's right arm for the last stretch to the ridge line. His brother radiates annoyance the whole way, but Waxer would rather Boil be cranky than break an ankle falling down the slope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they reach the top, the ground slopes down again, but at a gentler angle, and they can finally see the air base below, nestled in a ring of other hills and ridges, with what looks like a canyon to the north of the ridge. It's a hell of a defensible position, and Waxer can't help but wonder how the 501st managed to capture it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil must agree with his unspoken assessment, because he whistles quietly, then looks down to fuss with his sling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer takes one last look at the layout of the base before they hurry down the slope into thick forest again. There's a lot of open space, which makes sense for an air base, and a multi-storey building roughly ringed by a few smaller ones, though even those are large—probably hangars. The tower rising out of the central building is what's most impressive, though. Lit up in blue-green, all sleek curves, and...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, sithspit!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Boil's head snaps back up and Rex, who's turned toward the ridge to make sure they don't have any stragglers, whirls around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They're still about a half klick from the base, but there's no mistaking the streaks of blue and green light inside the room at the top of the tower.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lightsabers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over his own heavy breathing and the thump of boots behind him, Waxer can clearly hear intermittent blaster fire and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoom, shoom, crackle, shoom</span>
  </em>
  <span> of lightsabers. Which seems strange, because the Jedi were fighting in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> tall tower before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There hadn't been time to organize, but making a plan when two Force users are fighting is like trying to stop contraband booze, sweets, and cards from making their way into barracks. Rex and Waxer had yelled back to their men that General Kenobi and Krell were fighting, to set their blasters to stun, and that their jobs were to help General Kenobi and make sure to stop any brothers on base who might mistakenly try to help Krell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer and Rex are at the front, running full-tilt toward the base while keeping an eye out for any guards or patrols that might not be aware of their approach. The trooper who had gone on ahead seems to have done his job, though, because they do pass a pair of 501st boys, but don't get shot at. Rex just yells at them to hold their positions. Between the men on base, Torrent Company, and Nabat Platoon, there should be plenty of them to assist General Kenobi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hopefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach the perimeter quickly. Even carting around thirty-five to fifty kilograms of gear and weapons, clones are fast runners with stamina that far exceeds baseline Humans. So it hasn't even been two minutes by the time their boots hit the permacrete.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lightsaber sounds are definitely coming from ground level, and when Waxer glances up at the tower, he sees a giant, jagged hole in the transparisteel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Karking Jedi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Exchanging a couple quick hand signals, Waxer and Rex split up around the hangar between them and the base of the main building. Nabat follows Waxer and Torrent sticks with Rex. Waxer spares a moment to hope Boil is alright. Knowing how stubborn his best friend is, though, he figures Boil's probably right on his heels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer rounds the building and sees Krell, one of his four arms hanging limply at his side, slashing viciously at General Kenobi with a green, double-bladed saber. His general, though dwarfed by the Besalisk, ducks one end of the blade, then rolls to the side when the other end slashes down at him. He's on his feet in an instant and parries the next swing, though Waxer sees him twist away as he does so to avoid catching the full weight of Krell's much more powerful strikes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Waxer rushes closer, he notices a dark stain on the side of General Kenobi's right thigh. Despite the injury, Waxer's Jedi is talking, and he's too far away for Waxer to make out to make out the words themselves, but the rolling cadence means he's likely trying to bait Krell into getting angry and making a reckless move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are already 501st men scattered around, occasionally sending stun bolts at Krell when General Kenobi isn't too close to him. Krell bats them away with ease, but it's still good to see that, whatever Waxer's general has been up to since he arrived on the base, Rex's men are clearly with him. Not that Waxer's surprised. The 212th loves their general for a reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fan out, stagger!" Waxer shouts to Nabat as they get close enough to circle the Jedi. There aren't many good ways to fight Force users with blasters, but they all know that, if a group of troopers is able to surround one, they need to make sure another brother isn't directly across the way. Lightsabers can deflect blaster bolts in any direction, so no one in the area is safe, but at least if troopers stagger themselves around the circle, they won't shoot each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi avoids another strike by flipping backward onto a stack of crates. He sends one flying at Krell, and while the Besalisk slashes at the crate, he jumps over Krell to land behind him for another attack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer's so focused on keeping an eye on his general that he very nearly misses the huge lightsaber hilt lying on the ground in his path. So that's where Krell's second saber had got to. On impulse, Waxer scoops it up and tucks it under one arm so he can still use his blaster, albeit a bit awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Torrent closes the gap between the main building and the hangar they'd split around earlier just as Waxer skids to a stop next to a 501st trooper. Nabat's side is blocked off as well, so the Jedi are completely surrounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Surrender, Krell," General Kenobi says, and Waxer will never understand how he manages to sound so collected in even the craziest situations. There's definitely a dangerous edge of anger to his voice, but he's not yelling. "You're surrounded and vastly outnumbered."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a menacing step toward General Kenobi, Krell barks out a deep laugh. "You think these pitiful clones can do anything to me? You're more deluded than I </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" The last word is punctuated by a sudden lunge, and the brief lull to exchange words is apparently over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stalking closer to the lightsaber duel, Waxer sees Rex doing the same. Every third or fourth trooper in the ring mirrors them, drawing nearer to Krell and hoping to distract him enough so that General Kenobi can land another hit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Getting this close to a hostile Force user is dangerous, but if it helps the general, it's worth the risk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi parries another blow, but the force of it knocks him back several steps. Almost simultaneously, three stun bolts from different directions streak toward Krell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spinning his double-bladed saber, Krell swats two away, and he manages to dodge the third, but just barely. The Besalisk snarls, and as General Kenobi darts toward him, the snarl turns to a roar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer sees Krell fling his three working arms out, then it feels like a bantha-sized Cody kicks him square in the chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's some noise—scraping, yelling?—then Waxer is staring up at the blue-green clouds, chest shuddering as he tries to get his lungs working again. Sucking in tiny gasps of air, he manages to sit up. His blaster is... somewhere, but Krell's lightsaber somehow stayed tucked under his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinking hard, Waxer attempts to make his eyes focus long enough to find his general.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can't see him, though, just sees Krell's broad back as the Besalisk stalks forward, slapping away more stun bolts from troopers who were far enough back to avoid being caught in the Force blast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Waxer stumbles to his feet, Krell's lightsaber clutched in one hand, he catches sight of light tunics on the ground just beyond Krell. And he only sees the green glow of one lightsaber now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>General Kenobi is on the ground, and he's unarmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer looks around. There are some other troopers stirring, but most are still on the ground. He still doesn't know where his blaster is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Krell laughs, and it's a horrible rumble. General Kenobi is moving, but he's not on his feet yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking down, Waxer considers the lightsaber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, they're all probably about to die anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He forces enough air into his lungs to yell, "General Kenobi!" as loudly as he can, and hurls the lightsaber at Krell's back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hilt tumbles through the air, arcing up, up, back down...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When it's a few meters from the ground, blue plasma erupts from both ends of the saber, and it shoots forward, toward General Kenobi's raised hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It lodges in Krell's back on the way, and stays there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a long, strange moment of silence. Krell doesn't seem to move at all, and Waxer is suddenly afraid he's somehow going to pull the saber from his chest and kill them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then the green saber in Krell's hand drops, the blades sizzling where they touch the permacrete.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbles back and the blue blade skewering him goes out with a hiss. General Kenobi, who Waxer can see more clearly now, is still on the ground, propped on one elbow, and he lets his outstretched hand fall to his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer is already moving by the time Krell's knees give out and he hits the ground with a meaty thud. Skirting the still-lit saber, he drops to his knees next to his general.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sir!" His voice still sounds tight, and he sucks in another breath. "Are you okay?" Waxer doesn't wait for an answer, though, instead yelling for Muja. The general is already trying to push himself up and reassure Waxer, but Cody's not here, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>has to take care of their Jedi.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More brothers are on their feet, slowly approaching and warily eyeing the Besalisk's unmoving body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Waxer," General Kenobi repeats, wrapping a hand around Waxer's elbow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix, who must have been closer than Muja, appears and crouches down next to them, swinging his backpack off in one motion. Rex isn't far behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waxer pulls his bucket off and focuses on General Kenobi, looking for injuries beyond the one on his leg. There's a freshly bleeding scrape on one cheek.. "Yes, sir?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm glad you're alright," his general says, offering a strained smile and giving Waxer's arm a squeeze. "And Boil...?" he trails off, looking over Waxer's shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning, Waxer sees Boil approaching, limping a little but otherwise still in one piece. "He got to us just in time, sir." Then, looking up at Rex, he adds, "We're all okay."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hah!" Hardcase laughs, watching the Corvette's proton torpedoes shred a few of those creepy Umbaran tanks on the ground far below. He's always loved a good explosion, but being in the cockpit gives him a whole new perspective. Huge hunks of molten shrapnel careen through the air, seeming to move slowly from this far away, and Hardcase leans forward to catch one last look before the ship streaks past the devastation below. It's a relief to see the Umbarans and their weapons reduced to scrap; if they're dead, they can't hurt his brothers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the combined forces of the 212th and General Tiin's 122nd had taken the capital, and the remaining Umbaran ground forces had headed toward the air base, Blackout had sighed and completely given up on the whole stealth thing. So now Hardcase has a front row seat while Blackout's crew takes care of the Umbarans threatening the base.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twisting in the copilot seat, Hardcase yells back to the stealth ship's control room, "Nice shootin'!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears some laughter and delighted cursing, and knows the latter must be Duster. He's been memorizing some of Duster's more creative combinations of expletives to bring back and teach the 501st shinies. Rex will act all annoyed, but Hardcase will just save the best one to tell Rex on the sly and all will be forgiven.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to the pilot, Grip, Hardcase grins. "I'm a little jealous of this bad boy now. Puts my Z-6 to shame."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grip doesn't say anything, just vaguely nods his head, but that's okay. Not everyone is as talkative as Hardcase is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's been cooped up in the cockpit for a while now, since Blackout and the others are taking up all the space in the control room. Wiggling his toes in his boots, Hardcase watches the world outside tilt as Grip swings them around to pick off the last tank. He still has a headache and his left spaulder keeps poking him where it's dented and blackened, so he fidgets with it. Spark had given him a clean set of blacks, though, so at least he's got his full kit on again. Walking around with one arm uncovered was weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most brothers feel a little naked without their armor on, unless they know they're somewhere safe. Or as safe as any of them ever get. Maybe Grip feels that way about his pilot's helmet, too. Hardcase has only seen him take it off once since he came to a few hours ago, with Forn hovering over him anxiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, I saw your hair earlier," he says, landing on a topic of discussion and turning toward Grip again. The pilot goes a little stiff, so Hardcase isn't sure if he said something wrong, but decides he'll look out the window just in case. He smiles, trying to soften his voice a little because he knows he gets a little loud sometimes. "It's nice. I have a friend with long hair like that." Okay, so technically, Hardcase hasn't even known Tup for two days, but they're definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>going </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He rolls his up on the back of his head somehow," Hardcase continues, bringing one hand up behind his head and waving it in small circles. "But he says it makes his bucket fit kinda weird. I bet he'd like how you do yours. Looks kinda complicated, but he's a smart kid. I bet he could learn."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, Hardcase sees Grip turn to watch him for a moment, deftly adjusting the controls all the while. "Thanks," the pilot murmurs. "I could... uh, show him. If he wants."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase beams at Grip, but before he can reply, Blackout's voice calls from the control room, "Hardcase, stop distracting my pilot. This is our final pass, then we land at the air base. They have a spot cleared for us."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, sir!" Hardcase replies, grinning and scanning the ground ahead for the next blinding flash of a torpedo hitting home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase rocks back and forth, shifting his weight from toes to heels and back, as he waits for Blackout's crew in the cargo hold. There's a landing ramp connected to the control room too, but Blackout doesn't want Umbara's fine dust getting into the equipment, so they're using the hold's ramp to disembark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He absently scratches under one eye. The bacta patches Forn gave him worked great, but there's still some bruising around his eyes, and sometimes bruises get a little itchy as they heal. His shoulder is still wrapped in bacta patches, and Kix will probably make him put that arm in a sling for a couple days, but at least he can use it now. Hardcase made sure to thank Forn for putting him back back together after they found him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking around the hold, Hardcase sees the pilot's seat from his Umbaran starfighter off to one side, tied down under some cargo nets. Dark spots on the floor in the nearest corner catch his eye, so he wanders over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, it's dried blood. There's a small puddle and some smears, which make sense, but around the puddle, extending a meter or two in every direction, it looks like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>rained </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood. A light rain, nothing like Kamino's downpours, but what...?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh! Hardcase must have bled on the inside of the cockpit's deflector shield, and when it turned off, the blood drops fell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh, cool. Hardcase huffs out a laugh, already eager to tell Jesse about that. You'd think for someone whose best friend is a medic, he'd be better about blood. Fives keeps telling him he's not gonna make ARC unless he can get that under control, though Kix seems to find it strangely endearing. Hardcase smiles to himself. He's got weird friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts his feet as the Corvette starts to rotate. He hadn't noticed it as much sitting in the cockpit, but Grip must have the inertial compensators turned down a little to feel the ship better. Not that Hardcase knows much about flying, but he's heard pilots talk about that before, that it's generally something more experienced pilots experiment with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking back over to wait by the ramp again, Hardcase finally hears voices coming down the hallway leading to the cargo hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"—onna be so much flimsiwork after this."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, well, at least you won't have to attend the infinite debriefings I'll have to deal with after decloaking on a stealth mission, Lieutenant." Hah, Blackout's cranky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase is glad he's not an officer. They're all going to be swamped, but General Kenobi will probably be stuck doing most of the explaining to the Jedi Council and the Chancellor. Krell's dead, and even though he was a traitor, he was still a Jedi. Somehow he slipped under everyone's radar—well, except Blackout's, literally—and got thousands of brothers killed under his watch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase knows as well as any clone that the Galaxy doesn't care about them as anything more than products, but he likes to think that at least some of the Jedi do. He knows Tano adores the 501st, and Skywalker usually listens to Rex. Kenobi's always been nice, and Hardcase has heard all kinds of good things about Windu, Koon, Secura, Unduli...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway, he's just glad Kenobi took care of Krell (he wishes he could have seen that fight, though!), and that the 212th sergeant, Boil, reached Torrent and the others in time to stop them from killing each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spark and Blackout slide down the ladder into the cargo hold, followed by Forn and Duster as the ship touches down with a slight shudder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Hardcase waits for the ramp to descend. He'd convinced Blackout not to tell anyone that they'd rescued him, so he can't wait to see the looks on his brothers' faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the ramp even touches down, he spots General Kenobi, who's wearing a few more bandages than the last time Hardcase saw him. Rex and a few other members of Torrent are gathered around as well. Fives makes a choked noise, but he looks as frozen as Jesse. Kix blinks, then turns sharply to squint at Jesse and Fives, like they'd made up the whole tale of Hardcase's dramatic demise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Hardcase scans his eyes over Rex, though, he feels a little guilty for keeping his captain in the dark, even if it was just for a few hours. Rex has been winding himself into a knot since the beginning of this absolutely kriffed campaign, but now he just looks like he's being held together by stims and habit. It's not exactly bright on Umbara, even on the air base, but Rex's skin looks too grey, and the shadows under his eyes are deeper than Hardcase remembers. His pauldron and chestplate twitch suddenly, like he just gasped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. He'll just have to keep both eyes on Rex for a couple weeks. And maybe he'll save </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the new curse words he learned from Duster. He can educate Rex later and watch him roll his eyes while trying to hide a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slapping on a grin, Hardcase tromps down the ramp. "Surprise!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Hardcase?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rex blurts, voice a little ragged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stopping at the foot of the ramp, Hardcase opens his mouth to reply, but gets cut off when Jesse strides forward and barrels into him. Jesse's momentum almost knocks them both back onto the ramp, jarring an "oof" out of Hardcase. The manhandling makes his shoulder and ribs twinge, but he doesn't mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You kriffing—" Jesse sputters, pulling back just enough to look him up and down. "How did you—what are you even doing on this ship?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase laughs as Blackout and his squad file past, chuckling, and head toward Kenobi. Spark gives Hardcase's right shoulder a friendly nudge on the way. Kix, Rex, and Fives have crowded around Hardcase and Jesse at the bottom of the ramp, and Hardcase can see Tup, Dogma, and a couple others hanging back a few steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jesse is still holding onto Hardcase's arms like he might vanish into thin air if Jesse lets go. Rex gets a hand around his left wrist, squeezing once, as Fives smacks Hardcase's chestplate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hey, seriously," Fives says, trying to look stern. Not like it works, because Hardcase remembers when Fives and Echo were little baby shinies fresh off Rishi Station, and he and Jesse stayed up late telling them jokes and stupid stories those first few nights. "Hardcase, we thought—how did you get out of there before the explosion?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"By being a genius," Hardcase informs him, ignoring several eye rolls as Jesse and Rex step back enough to let go of him. "Kix," he says, turning to his friend, "remember when we were loading the missile launchers onto the Umbaran starfighters? Well, the pilot has some control over them, right? Because you just had to push them over and I was able to maneuver them into position with the ship controls."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix nods, and Fives gives Hardcase a shrewd look. Hardcase beams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"After I got out of the fighter—you know, on the Sep supply ship—and told you two to take off, I pushed the missile launcher around behind the ray shield. But I figured I could use the starfighter's controls to send the ordnance scooting into the reactor. I wasn't a hundred percent sure the signal would go through the ray shield, but I figured the odds were good." He shrugs, grinning at Rex's raised eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So I ran back to the starfighter—I got shot a little, but Blackout's kid patched me up—and turned the cockpit deflector shield back on, then just"—he jerks his right elbow back, like he's pulling on the ship's controls—"</span>
  <em>
    <span>shoop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pushed the missile launcher toward the reactor behind me and took off."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fives cackles, sounding delighted. "Okay, fine, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a genius!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"See?" Hardcase laughs, continuing. "I must have still gotten caught up in the explosion, 'cause I got knocked out and Blackout said the cockpit was torn off the rest of the ship and went flying away from the battle. They swung by and scooped me up in the cargo hold, and I'm good as new!" He raps both fists against his chestplate to demonstrate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rex looks over to where Kenobi and a couple of the 212th boys are still talking with Blackout. "Cody's due to comm the base in a few minutes so we can get this debriefing over with," he sighs, but rests a hand on Hardcase's singed spaulder. "I'm glad you're okay, Hardcase. And thank you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase sobers for a moment, giving Rex a soft smile. "Any time, Captain."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright, Fives, with me," Rex says as he turns away. "Jesse, make sure everything's on track to depart in two hours."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, sir," Fives and Jesse chorus. Jesse turns and starts directing the other brothers loitering in the area. Fives makes sure to playfully knock into Hardcase on his way to trail after Rex.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Fives catches up with him, Rex calls over his shoulder, "Oh, and Hardcase? I'm promoting you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hardcase squawks, horrified. "Don't you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix laughs, shaking his head. Behind him, Tup snickers, and even Dogma looks a little less tense than usual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright," Kix says, "I want to look you over to make sure you're 'good as new,' like you </span>
  <em>
    <span>claim</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Come on, I've got my gear by the main building." He turns, waving at Hardcase to follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a footfall at the top of the ramp behind Hardcase, and he glances up to see Grip standing there, helmet still on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll be there in just a sec," Hardcase calls after Kix, who gives him a skeptical look. "I promise! Two minutes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alright, the clock is running," Kix threatens, and continues on his way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah," Hardcase says, distracted, as he looks around. He spots Tup and Dogma heading toward a stack of open crates. "Tup!" he calls, jogging after them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both turn, and when Hardcase catches up he grabs Tup's arm, pulling him back toward the ramp where Grip is still lurking awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wha...?" Tup looks confused, but goes along with Hardcase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dogma," Hardcase adds, "you too! You can take notes."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dogma looks as confused as Tup, but spots a datapad on a nearby crate and hurries over to grab it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slinging an arm over Tup's shoulders, Hardcase steers them toward the ramp. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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